


Tomorrow Might Be Good For Something

by patientalien



Series: Avengers Complex Fics [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Depression, Gen, Missing Scene, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Tony Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 15:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20584793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patientalien/pseuds/patientalien
Summary: Tony simply stands there and waits until the empty can is settled back on the counter and a new one is opened in its place. To his credit, Thor doesn't immediately guzzle this one as well, just hangs onto it like a security blanket as he adds, "I don't have anything to wear."Tony knows he doesn't mean this generally. Thor had come with a duffle bag filled with booze and dirty pajamas. He has things to wear here, or back home.He doesn't have anything to wear to Asgard.....Tony, Thor, a cape, and a 12 pack of beer.





	Tomorrow Might Be Good For Something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [citizenjess (givehimonemore)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/gifts).

> I'm a huge sucker for Tony and Thor's relationship in Endgame and I am sad there isn't more about it. 
> 
> Title is from Unwell by Matchbox Twenty.

"Hanging in there, bud?" 

At the prompt, Thor raises his head. His half-gloved fingers are dancing precariously over the countertop and the items it holds: beer cans, mini bottles of hard liquor, and an assortment of packaged junk food. He gives Tony a jerk of his chin and a pathetic smile. "Of course," he says with a hoarse chuckle, twitching fingers now closing around a beer can, deftly popping it open one-handed and raising it to his lips without even having to look. 

It's a move that takes some practice. 

So is the speed with which Thor drinks it.

Tony simply stands there and waits until the empty can is settled back on the counter and a new one is opened in its place. To his credit, Thor doesn't immediately guzzle this one as well, just hangs onto it like a security blanket as he adds, "I don't have anything to wear."

Tony knows he doesn't mean this generally. Thor had come with a duffle bag filled with booze and dirty pajamas. He has things to wear here, or back home. 

He doesn't have anything to wear to Asgard.

He hadn't stayed at the Compound long enough to leave anything here, and anything left behind that long would be ill fitting at best. "Its okay," Tony says. "Nobody's expecting you to blend in." 

Thor considers that, propping himself up against the counter with his hip and free hand, using the other holding the beer to gesture with. "Y'know," he says, "I'm not really looking forward to any of this." 

Tony takes a position next to Thor, leaning back against the counter as well, arms crossed over his chest. He regards his friend for a moment, the wandering gaze, the ill-fitting, filthy clothing, the hair and beard allowed to grow untamed. Thor had once been strong and still, but now he is in constant motion, shifting and swaying and faltering, as if he's unaccustomed to his own center of gravity. "Yeah," he says, lowering his chin to his chest, "I don't blame you."

Thor takes a swig of his beer and hides a belch behind the back of his hand, poorly. Tony runs a hand over his face. "Hey," Thor says suddenly, turning fully to face Tony, the bulk of his weight still supported by the counter. "I never thanked you, for -" He pauses, drinks. "Y'know." He waves the beer can around vaguely. 

"For…?" Tony prompts. 

Thor clears his throat and pushes off the counter, bouncing languidly on the balls of his feet. "The check. The relief fund and all that, Pepper talking to... whoever she talked to. It helped when I…" He trails off, looks away. 

"Oh." Tony isn't sure what to say to that. The Stark Relief Foundation's involvement in getting the few remaining Asgardians settled had seemed like a no-brainer. He doesnt think he had even asked Thor before doing it. 

No, he knows he didn't, because he only saw Thor once after getting rescued from the dark, horrifyingly beautiful Void of space, and they hadn't spoken at all. It was only after seeing it on the news, the arrival of the last of Asgard, that he acted. 

"I should have come in person," he says. 

Thor shrugs. "There was a lot going on," he replies, draining the can and grabbing yet another, an automatic and ingrained motion that Tony recognizes intimately. 

Beer had never been his beverage of choice, but the movements are the same. 

He wonders how long it took for Thor to check out completely. Was it a slow decline, or did he show up in New Asgard already having given up? It's hard to tell which option he likes less.

The first drink slops ungracefully down Thor's beard. "Hey," Tony says, walking over and grabbing both of Thor's hands. "Cool it for a second, we're having a conversation." Christ, how many times had Rhodey or Pepper said that to him? How has Tony become the most well-adjusted one in the room?

Thor settles for a moment, looking down at him with the saddest expression Tony has ever seen on another person's face. It's gone in an instant, the corners of Thor's eyes crinkling as he paints that smile back on. "I can do two things at once," he says. "And you weren't the only one not to come in person. Which is fine, by the way. I really wasn't waiting for anyone to show up." Coming from anyone else, it would sound bitter. From Thor, it just sounds tired.

Thor always sounds tired now. 

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad the help, y'know, helped." He knows better than to draw out his apology; Thor has made it clear he isn't interested in rehashing the past five years, nor is he interested in being regarded with pity - at least not to his face.

Thor shrugs and looks down at the floor, twisting back and forth slightly at the waist even as Tony remains holding his hands. "Buddy," Tony says. 

"I'm fine," Thor answers, stepping back and pulling his hands away abruptly, sniffing as he swallows down what must have been half the can. "Just - just stop. I just want to get this over with." He rubs his eyes with his free hand, wincing slightly. Tony knows the feeling, that headache. Stress and grief and booze: a winning combination. 

"You and me both, pal," Tony snorts. Get this over with, get back home to Pepper and Morgan. 

He wonders who Thor will go home to. 

"Let's find you something to wear," he offers. 

"I'm gonna take a nap first," Thor informs him, grabbing a couple more cans off the counter and shuffling around it towards the sofa. The blanket Tony had draped over him during his last impromptu nap is still crumpled over the back. If Thor isn't drinking, he's napping, and he's doing an awful lot of both. 

Tony catches up and puts a hand on Thor's arm. "I thought you wanted to get it over with."

"The mission, I meant." Thor glances longingly over at the sofa. "I'm tired."

"You're drunk."

Thor huffs out a laugh and raises the open can to his lips. "That too," he agrees, and swallows heavily. "The only thing I might have here is a cape," he says after a moment of rocking back and forth.

Its something, at least. "Okay, we can work with that. Where is it?" Thor gives a one-shouldered shrug. "Somewhere in your room?" Another shrug. "Come on, buddy, work with me here." 

"I don't  _ remember _ ," Thor responds, rolling his eyes. "I was here for five minutes eight years ago." Before flying off to explore the cosmos, to find answers that only served to further batter him down. Tony should have convinced him to stay. 

He grabs Thor's elbow and leads them, Thor plodding behind reluctantly, to Thor's assigned room. It's a mess, though Thor has only been here scant days. Most of the mess is centered around the bed; food wrappers, empty bottles, and dirty clothes form a nest of depression amidst the blankets. Tony ignores it and starts looking through drawers, finally pulling a heavy crimson cape from the top shelf of the closet. 

He unfurls it and reaches up to settle the fabric over Thor's broad shoulders. When part of Thor's armor, it looks majestic. As an accessory to a stained t-shirt with holes in the armpits, it looks ridiculous. "That's not quite right, is it?" Tony comments. 

Thor gives another mild shrug and shuffles towards his bag, tugging out shirts and pants, most of which are stained, some of which are torn, and all of which smell like they haven't been washed in a year or two. "Why don't you toss all of those into the laundry," Tony suggests. 

Thor has a hooded sweatshirt in his hands that looks almost entirely clean. "This will work for something," he says, shrugging off the cape and laying it out on the bed along with the sweatshirt. Tony takes it upon himself to gather the rest of the clothes, tossing them down the laundry chute before Thor can make any excuses for not doing it. 

"What about a robe?" Tony asks, fingering the cape. "Cut some arm holes?" 

Thor looks reluctant, reaching down to gather the garment in his arms. "Cut it?" he asks, drawing the cape close to his chest, burying his face in it for a moment as he takes a shuddery breath, preparing to make yet another sacrifice. 

"Just a thought," Tony assures him. 

Thor thrusts the garment out to Tony. "It's not like I'm using it anymore anyway," he says. 

Tony accepts the offering, and the explanation, without comment. Thor is working on emptying the rest of his drink while Tony finds the first aid kit. Not quite what he wants, but it contains what he needs. Needle. Thread. Scissors. 

It won't be any sort of artful work, but it will do. Thor stands as still as he ever does anymore as Tony drapes the fabric again, cutting holes to accommodate Thor's arms, sloppily hemming. "Pockets?" he asks, holding up the extra fabric. 

Thor looks down at the beer cans in his hands. "Pockets would be good," he says. 

For this, Tony sits in one of the chairs and Thor nestles himself in the middle of his circle of debris on the bed, picking at the comforter. "You cool working with the trash panda on this?" It's mostly to get Thor out of his broody silence, as opposed to actually desiring conversation. 

"Ah, yes, we are - he's a friend." 

Thor says nothing after that, and Tony doesn't have the heart to keep pushing so he concentrates on the needle and thread and making sure the pockets don't end up with gaping holes in them. "Alright. Stand up." 

He shakes the transformed cape out and gestures for Thor to stand. He does, with reluctance and a particular lack of grace. Tony helps him shrug the new robe on, and Thor immediately sticks his hands in the pockets and twists back and forth, looking down at the hem that skims the tops of his Crocs. "I - ah- I like it," he says, a bit of wonder in his voice. 

"Looks good, that's a good color on you," Tony responds, clapping him on the shoulder. 

Thor looks up at him, and gives him a nod and a watery smile. "This, uh, this is the… the last thing I have from there," he admits. "I don't -" He cuts himself off and clears his throat.

"Hey." Tony keeps his hand on Thor's shoulder and squeezes gently. Thor does best with distractions, so he adds, "You like ice cream? I'll get you some Stark Raving Hazelnuts." 

Thor's smile is tired, but grateful. "I've had it," he says, shrugging out of the robe. It gets laid on the bed beside the sweatshirt, waiting to be donned in the morning. He heads for the door, one last beer in his hand. "I like Hunka-Hulka Burning Fudge better." 

Tony rolls his eyes. "Of course you do," he says, and follows him back to join the rest of the team. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
